Page 58 of Finders Keepers
“That’s…fine? I’m not here for them. I’m here for you.”
“Oh. What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to the cardboard drink carrier he’s holding, with its two iced coffees and the white paper bag stamped with Best That You Can Brew’s logo of a large moon with a coffee cup resting on its crescent, the New York City skyline smaller beneath it.
“Breakfast.”
I’m still unsure how to act, what to say, how tostand. I shift on my feet.
“You know,” Quentin continues, “the thing after you wake up, before lunch. I figured we could have it together this morning. Unless you already ate?”
I shake my head as I keep staring down at what he’s holding, baffled by his presence. Everything that happened last night and now…he’s here. With breakfast. I peek into the bag and spot two apple fritters.
“So, can I come in or…?”
The question flips a switch, turning me into a fully functioning social being again. “Oh. Right. Yeah, sure.”
He takes off his sunglasses and hooks them onto the pocket of his shirt as he follows me inside. I put the bag down on the coffee table and take a seat at the other end of the couch, not wanting to be too close.
“I thought these were impossible to get unless you got there right when they open,” I say.
“Usually, yes. But Hanako gave me the heads-up last night that if you use the online ordering and choose a later pickup, they’ll put them aside for you.”
“Smart.”
“She said you wanted to try them. So.” He smiles again. It’s a smile that makes him look a little unsure of himself. The exact opposite of that practiced one. My heart feels covered in condensation—either that or it’s actively melting. Quentin takes his own apple fritter from the bag and sets it on a napkin atop the coffee table. Then he grabs two macramé coasters—that Mom made in a class, of course—and places our drinks on them.
Bon Jovi’s stupid handsome face staring off into the distance pops into my mind.Do it in pencil, he taunts. So much of my life is currently up in the air. The things I have control over have dwindled to almost nothing. This could be my chance to have a say in something again. To prove to Bon Jovi that there’s this one aspect of my journey—a physical relationship with Quentin that operates in a neat, mature fashion—that Icanmap out in pen, goddammit.
Sabrina is right. The worldismy oyster, and now I just need to figure out how to go about eating it.
The silence between us as we enjoy our apple fritters isn’t awkward so much as anticipatory. Like we both know that after we’re finished, we’re going to need to figure out how to handle what happened. I know what I want, and I think I’m ready to go after it. But what doesQuentinwant? Does he want anything at all? It might be my imagination, but it seems like we’re both taking smaller bites, chewing slightly more slowly than usual, trying to put off the conversation.
Which is why I watch, rapt, as he balls up his napkin,sprinkled with flakes of sticky glaze, and tucks it into the empty bag. He does it slowly, meticulously, with reverence—as if he’s performing some sort of sacred ceremony.
He stares straight ahead for a long moment.
“Thanks for bringing breakfast,” I say, sucking sugar off my fingertip.
“I have never come as hard as I did watching you touch yourself.” He drops this absolute bombshell of a non sequitur, then turns his head to look at me. It seems like he’s waiting for a response, except by the time my lips part (not that I have any idea what to say), he’s already continued, “But it’s okay if that’s all that ever happens between us.”
“These signals seem…mixed,” I say slowly.
Quentin hangs his head. “What I am trying to say is, I enjoyed last night. Very much. It was the most erotic moment of my life, to be honest, and I will treasure the memory. I don’t know if you intended—”
“I did. I did intend. I would like…again,” I interrupt. “More.” Okay, so those were not even real sentences, but I do still seem to get my point across because Quentin inhales deeply and rubs the back of his neck, as if hoping to cover the flush sweeping up it. “But you…You did say last night on the porch that you couldn’t. And it sounds like you’re still unsure now…” This feels suddenly too vulnerable. It leaves too wide a space for something that could devastate me. So I tease, “It’s because you’re afraid you’ll lose the next round, isn’t it?”
He lets out a low chuckle that gets added to yet another new subfolder—Hot as Hell. “Oh, believe me, Nina. If we aimed for first again, I would be victorious in like, three seconds. It took every ounce of willpower I had to last as long as I did.”
And the memory of exactly how long it took both of usreminds me that there is a part of me that was bold enough to stand in front of that window mostly naked. A sensual, less anxiety-driven part. Someone I enjoyed being. Someone I’m not sure exists when not powered by the electricity between us. “Then if we were to give it another go, maybe instead it should be who can come last?”
He visibly swallows. “Maybe.” Quentin’s face has gone a delightful shade of pink to match his neck. He turns his head to look at me, smiles, and sighs before bowing it again. And I can tell there’s still hesitation there. Something beyond being slightly flustered or caught without protection.
I rush to reassure him. “Listen. All joking aside, I know what I intended, but maybe you…I don’t want to pressure you. If you don’t want to—”
“I do. I want…so much. I’m just…I need to…” He lets out a frustrated-sounding exhale, as if the rest of his words are being held up somewhere along the route from brain to mouth and he isn’t sure how to get them unstuck. His eyes focus downward and I follow them to my hand, where the engagement ring was the other day.
“Oh.” I lean back, no longer intruding into his personal space. “Right. Charlene. I’m sorry. I sometimes forget that you guys were like, living together and everything. Cole was so far away, and we didn’t even…Anyway, I understand. It’s too soon. I’m sure you’re still dealing with that, with your feelings for her.”
“No,” he says firmly. “It’s not about Charlene. At all. There aren’t any feelings left to deal with there, I promise.”
